Black Canyon Conspiracy

“I think you should hire a lawyer,” Abby said. “The station can’t cut you off with no severance or benefits or anything when they’ve outright admitted their firing you is related to your medical diagnosis. The Americans with Disabilities Act probably has something to say about that.”

“Abby is right,” Sophie said. “Threaten to sue them and make them cough up a settlement—and continue your medical benefits, at least until you find something better.”

Right. She didn’t want to lose the benefits that paid for the medication that was keeping her on an even keel. “Good idea,” she said. “I have a lawyer friend in Denver. I’ll call him today.” She grabbed a notebook from the counter that separated the apartment’s kitchen from the living area and wrote that down. It felt good to have something constructive to do.

“And I’m not going to stop going after Richard Prentice, either,” she said. “Even with the grand jury indictment, the prosecutor will need every bit of evidence he can get to convict. Prentice thinks his money puts him above the law. I’m going to show him he’s wrong.”

“Emma will help, I’m sure,” Sophie said. “If you both use your skills as investigative reporters, you’re bound to turn up something.”

“We can all help,” Abby said. “I only know about botany, but I’m good at following directions, so if you give me a job, I’ll do it.” A graduate student, Abby had almost completed her work toward a master’s degree in environmental science.

“Me, too,” Sophie said. A former government administrator in Madison, Wisconsin, Sophie had given up her job to move to Montrose and search for Lauren.

“Thanks, all of you.” Lauren hugged them each in turn. For all the terrible things that had happened to her in the past weeks and months, she’d gained these wonderful friends. They had rallied around her since she’d come to Montrose, and treated her like another sister. That was a blessing she was truly grateful for.

A knock sounded on the door. Sophie said, “That’s probably Rand. He said he was going to stop by and take me to lunch.”

Lauren answered the door. “Hello, Rand.” She smiled at the handsome, muscular man with short brown hair who stood on the landing, then looked past him to the darker, taller man behind him. “Hello, Marco.”

“How are you doing, Lauren?” Agent Marco Cruz asked as he followed his coworker into the apartment. His deep, soft voice made her heart beat a little faster. When had she turned into such a cliché, going all swoony over the handsome guy in uniform who’d just happened to save her life? Of course, pretty much any straight woman with a pulse got a little weak-kneed around Marco, who might have been the inspiration for the description “tall, dark and handsome.”

But Lauren was not any woman, she told herself. She wasn’t going to allow hormones to let her make a fool of herself over a guy who was probably used to women falling at his feet. She was grateful to him, of course, but she refused to be that cliché. “I’m holding my own. Come on in.”

She ushered the men into the house. Rand greeted Sophie with a kiss. Since the two had worked together to rescue Lauren, they’d been almost inseparable. “Are we interrupting something?” he asked, looking around the kitchen at the women.

“We were discussing Richard Prentice’s latest,” Sophie said. “Emma just left. She showed us an article in the Post—he’s managed to get Lauren fired.”

“The article doesn’t say anything about Prentice getting me fired,” Lauren said.

“No, but I’d bet my last dime that he paid your ex to say you were unstable,” Sophie said. “And he probably threatened to sue the station if they didn’t let you go.”

“Prentice must have a whole team of lawyers working full-time,” Rand said.

“We saw that he’s suing the Rangers, and his senator friend is agitating to disband the task force,” Abby said.

Rand shrugged. “Nothing new there.”

“Do you think he’ll succeed in breaking you up?” Sophie asked.

“I don’t think so. He’s just trying to distract attention away from his own troubles.”

“Emma told us the grand jury plans to hand down an indictment today,” Lauren said.

“That’s just the start,” Rand said. “Once the indictment is in place, the serious work of doing everything we can to bolster our case really gets started. Even with everything we have, convicting that man is going to take a lot of luck to go along with our hard work.”

“What do you think, Marco?” Lauren asked. The DEA agent didn’t talk much, but she’d learned he was smart and thoughtful.

“I think we’re going to have to get lucky if we want to succeed in bringing down Prentice,” he said. “We need to find his weaknesses and target them.”

“Does he have any weaknesses?” Sophie asked.

“Lauren was his weakness once,” Marco said.

She flushed. When he’d kidnapped her and held her hostage, Prentice said it was to stop her from interfering in his business. But instead of killing her, he’d tried to woo her and persuade her to marry him. “I don’t think he feels the same about me now,” she said.

“The opposite of love is hate,” Marco said. “I still think you matter to him, one way or another.”

“Oh, I’d say he definitely hates me now, and he’s playing hardball, getting me fired and making the public think I’m crazy.”

“You’re not crazy,” Marco said. “Just stay smart and be careful. And call me if you need anything.”

She turned away, not wanting him to see how his assurance affected her. They’d only spent a few hours together, when he helped rescue her from Prentice, but she’d felt safer with him than she ever had with anyone, despite the fact that, to most people, he was pretty intimidating—hard muscles, hard eyes and an expression that said he was untouched by events around him.

Rand checked his watch. “I hate to break up this party, but we have to go. We’ve only got an hour for lunch, plus I left Lotte in the Cruiser.” Lotte was Rand’s police dog, a Belgian Malinois who had helped locate Lauren.

“Give her a biscuit and an ear scratch for me,” Lauren said. “And we all have to get back to work, me included. I’ve got a lawyer to call.”

“I won’t be long.” Sophie hugged her goodbye. “Maybe we’ll take in a movie later.”

The men left with Sophie, and Abby prepared to take her leave, also. “I think Mr. Tall, Dark and Deadly has a thing for you,” she teased as she collected her purse and sunglasses from the kitchen counter.

“Marco?” Lauren’s face grew warm. “He was just being nice.”

“Marco is never ‘just nice,’” Abby said. “Not that he’s not a decent guy, but he’s very reserved. And a little scary.”

“Do you think so?” She’d never felt afraid with Marco.

“He was in Special Forces,” Abby said. “Those guys are all a little scary. But very sexy, too.” She nudged Lauren. “And I think he definitely likes you. You should ask him out.”

“I don’t need another rejection right now.”

“I don’t think he’d reject you,” Abby said.

“Even if you’re right, now’s not the time to start a new relationship. I really need to get my life together.”

“Maybe Marco would help.” At Lauren’s scowl, Abby held up her hands in a defensive gesture. “Okay, okay, I’ll stop matchmaking. But, you know—keep it in mind.”

The apartment felt emptier than ever when the women were gone. Lauren set about putting away coffee cups and wiping down the counter. After she spoke with Shawn, her lawyer friend, she should update her résumé. And maybe see about doing some freelancing. The local university might need someone in their television department.

She returned to her list and began making notes. Was there a way to get hold of Richard Prentice’s tax records? Maybe through some kind of public records request? That might be revealing...

Pounding on the door made her jump—not a friendly knock, but a heavy beating against the wood that made the wall shake. She grabbed up her phone, ready to hit the speed dial for 9-1-1. “Who is it?” she called in a shaky voice.

“I have a delivery for Lauren Starling.”

She tiptoed to the door and peered through the peephole. A burly man in a tracksuit stood on the landing. “You’re not with a delivery company,” she said. “Go away.”

“I have a package for you.” He held up a box about eight inches square.